


Flowers Like Knives

by canufeelthemagictonight



Category: Escape the Night (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (don't worry the one already dead is a minor person; no one dies in this fic), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Concern, Crying, Fear, Flowers, Friendship, Guilt, Hanahaki Disease, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Impossible requests, Nikita is a mess, Other, Past Character Death, References to Game Theory because why not, Unrequited Love, all aboard the angst train to sadville, but they might, not really hurt/comfort, so is Matt tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canufeelthemagictonight/pseuds/canufeelthemagictonight
Summary: "Fix it." She's shoving petals into his face, her deep brown eyes on fire with tears, her voice ablaze. "Fix this shit. Fix it now."Matt and Nikita are forced to confront the deadly Hanahaki Disease, and neither of them have any idea how to handle it.An Escape the Night AU.





	Flowers Like Knives

**Author's Note:**

> "Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear...sometimes, this also removes the memories of the former beloved, or the victim's ability to ever love again." --fanlore.org, the last time I checked it.

"Fix it." She's shoving petals into his face, her deep brown eyes on fire with tears, her voice ablaze. "Fix this shit. Fix it now."

Matt gulps. He can't take his eyes off the way the multicolored petals float through the air and come to rest on his brown jacket. "It's..." He swallows, then shakes his head. "It's not possible. I can't."

"Yes, it is. You can. You _will._ Or I'll give you hell, I _swear,_ I _mean_ it, I'm not messing around here, Patrick, you're gonna fix it you _gotta_ fix it I _can't_ you _can't_ just—"

"Nikita!" He grips her shoulders in an effort to calm her down. "Listen to me! Please! I'm just as upset as you are, and I _wish_ I could fix it, I _really_ do, but I _can't!_ I _really_ can't! That's now how things work!" His voice trembles slightly, and he mentally curses himself for not noticing the situation until Nikita screamed it in his face. "I'm sorry!" 

The blonde goes still in his grip. For a second, she stares blankly at him, as if she's unable to comprehend the words that are leaving his mouth. Then, she lets out a broken sob that's unlike anything he's ever heard from her, throws her arms around his waist, and sobs into his shoulder. Matt hugs her back, trying not to burst into tears himself. The flowers on his jacket hit the floor.

What is he supposed to say? _There, there?_ That doesn't seem right when a life is on the line.

"I don't want," is all Nikita can force out between sobs.

An idea comes to Matt. "It's not too late. There's still the surgery."

"He doesn't want the damn surgery." Nikita's voice is a pained growl now. "Doesn't wanna forget you or some _sappy_ shit, that _bitch..."_

 _Well, that's no good._ Matt purses his lips and tries to think of an alternate solution, but he can only think about the thousand and one flowers that surrounded the coffin of Rosanna's college friend Elizabeth. _Killed by love,_ the preacher professed. Rosanna was a wreck that day, but so was the hapless boy who half the mourners blamed for the tragedy...a boy who hadn't even known of Elizabeth's existence.

_Will that be me?_

There's a tiny part of him that feels like he deserves it, but he mentally calls that part _ridiculous_ and wipes it away.

Nikita sniffles. "I know...I _know_ you can't, okay, I _know_ that, but what am I supposed to do? I _can't_ lose Manny! Not to some stupid _flower_ petal thing!" The normally tough girl seems like fine china that's about to break. "What do I do, Matt? What do _we_ do?"

 _"The Hanahaki Disease is said to fill its victims' lungs with flowers, literally suffocating them on the roses, tulips, and daffodils that grow out of their unrequited feelings. But since the disease only afflicts about 100 people each year, are there risk factors? Are_ you _in danger of getting a case of the killer petals? Well, here on Game Theory, we went through the stats, and we discovered that 72% of all cases of the Hanahaki Disease within the last twenty years took root in people between the ages of fifteen and thirty. This is, of course, to be expected..."_

"We..." Matt trails off, then clings to the closest thing to a solution he can possibly come up with. "Maybe I can try and talk him into getting the surgery? He can still _talk,_ right? It's only been three months..." _And the longest anyone ever lasted was five._

Nikita opens her mouth, apparently ready to protest, but her shoulders sag before she can form an argument. "Fine," she grunts quietly. "You can _try._ But don't you _dare_ make it worse, bitch, or I'll drop-kick you to China."

"Understood," he replies, half of a twitchy smile sneaking its way across his face.

"And if it doesn't work—"

"We'll think of something else."

She blinks. "That _is_ your thing, isn't it? Mr. FNAF Was Actually Just a Dream?" Her attempt at a brave grin fails. "I wish this was a dream, too."

Matt pulls her back into his arms. "Wouldn't that be nice," he murmurs, more to himself than to her, as his glasses begin to mist with what he prays to God is only a light case of condensation.

**Author's Note:**

> Matt and Nikita are a very good BROTP. That is all.


End file.
